


Iridescent

by mari_aye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beach Volleyball, DJ Hinata Shouyou, Gym Parties, Hoshiumi Kourai is a confused gay, M/M, Minor Meian Shuugo/Hirugami Fukurou, Mutual Admiration, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Pining Idiots, Slow Burn, Song fics, Volleyball Dorks in Love, cant beleive there isnt a tag for that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mari_aye/pseuds/mari_aye
Summary: The feather was soft, even if it was slightly ragged towards the lower end. You smoothen the edges out, the black, burnt threads of flight convincing rainbows and you can't help but believe them.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Hoshiumi Kourai, Hinata Shouyou/Hoshiumi Kourai, Hirugami Sachirou & Hoshiumi Kourai
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	Iridescent

_Friday, 30th November, 2018._

You yawn. You didn’t ask for this: all you wanted to do this weekend was fall back into your usual routine. Wake up, freshen up, make a smoothie and a light breakfast, grab your phone and earbuds and head out for a morning jog. You’d head back, grab a snack and continue jogging to the Adler’s gym. It wasn’t much, but you grew comfortable and familiar with the routine, so you never really complained. Your day would’ve gone exactly the way you planned if it weren’t for two pesky Hirugamis.

  
Sachirou and Fukurou felt vengeful towards you for tweeting something rather hideous from both of their accounts. You wonder why they even gave access to their phones to you in the first place- it wasn’t as if you were the most trustworthy person when it came to looking through someone’s account. It didn’t matter anyway since you laughed till you couldn’t breathe at the replies and comments on your masterpieces.

  
 _‘Why is honey in my bellybutton?’_ You tweeted from Sachirou’s. _‘French toast your womb tube, man.’_ Is your personal favorite reply sent by none other than Nozawa Izuru, a former teammate of yours, who has a knack for making remarks that make you question what the fuck even goes on in his brain.

  
 _‘My tears taste like vodka, what do?’_ You tweeted from Fukurou’s. 

  
You were a sliver more merciful since you are aware a lot of big personalities follow him, as he proudly proclaimed. But it didn’t stop you tarnishing his pride for the day. It unfortunately didn’t work out as well as you’d hope, since Twitter was being a dick to you (and him after a certain amount of time). It did gather a small amount of attention, especially from your teammates and the other teams, who didn’t pass up the chance to either throw a clever remark during practice, or question what the fuck that post was. 

  
Now you pay the price, leaning back against the car seat, arms crosses and pouting like a child who was denied candy. You three were on your way to Bokuto’s party, the last party before Christmas. A party only a handful from the team can attend. You didn’t really mind parties, but tonight you were unusually fatigued. You groan for the hundredth time and scowl at the car ceiling. Sachirou was on his phone next to the driver’s seat, which gave you ample opportunities to kick the back of his seat. You wouldn’t dare do the same to Fukurou, 1) because he’s the driver and 2) It would probably be your last day alive. 

  
The ride was quiet, but you managed to entertain yourself anyway by watching the lit up buildings rush by in front of the retreating sun. The sky was painted with oranges and dark blues, the stars braving out into the cloudless sky, city lights splattering across the scene. You spotted a few familiar stores and buildings you always saw, but apart from the mindless scrutiny of city lights and blurs, you fiddled with your white leather jacket, zipping and unzipping to reveal a dark blue shirt. You eventually paused after worrying a few metal teeth on the fabric and resumed back to kicking Sachirou’s seat. 

  
You didn’t pay attention to anything else the entire ride until you felt the car slow down and halt completely. The repetitive _ding_ of the car as Fukurou opens his door makes your annoyance flare again. You three exit the car and you can already hear the deep, rhythmic beat of the bass strike through your innards like a drum, making you fear the volume of the music from inside the building. This is probably the first time you’ll be scared of volume, of all things. The building in question was probably somewhere around the corner. Your guess was confirmed as Fukurou and Sachirou start walking parallel to the building line.

  
The music was probably the first thing that sticks into your head as you walk, hands stuffed in your pockets, little wisps of air escaping your mouth.

  
“Hoping to find a date, Gull Boy?” Sachirou sneers good-naturedly. You scrunch your nose up indignantly. 

  
“Nah,” you reply simply, then lean towards Fukurou and mimic Sachirou’s tone, “What about _you_? Hoping to score some points off Meian?” You tease. 

  
“Oh, zip it, ” Fukurou sends you a glare, but you could tell the rosy hue coloring his cheeks wasn’t from the cold. You bark out a laugh and give your captain a slap on the back. For luck, who knows?

  
“Anyway,” the older Hirugami wavers a little, “We’re here.” He gestured towards the gym in the background, lights decorating its roofs and doors. It definitely looks like a place where a party is going on considering the music that beat through your ribs. The gym itself is bigger than the Adler’s, and suddenly you feel drained again. 

  
“Okay, who do we know from there?” Sachirou asks, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he’s trying to hide his own tiredness to protect his pride.

  
Fukurou hummed, “Just about everyone, I think. But this is Bokuto we’re talking about- he pretty much knows half the players in the league.” You want to sleep. 

  
The older laughs, “Ah look alive, Kourai-kun, you’ll probably have fun in there. I heard he managed to get a hand on a few Kamomedai alumni.” He says like it’s no big deal, but you and Sachirou instantly rebooted at that. Arguably the most fun you’ve ever had was when you were in that volleyball club alongside Sachirou, but after graduation, the rest of you just kind of drifted apart. You can’t really complain much about that, life happens. Even so, it doesn’t stop the two of you skipping in your shoes towards the gym, eager.

  
Beside what you would assume is the main door, since Fukurou seems to be leading you two there, is Thomas Adriah scrolling through his phone, face neutral and apathetic. He was dressed casually: a lavender pullover over a white plaid and black jeans. It was a sign of confirmation you over-dressed just a little, since Sachirou kept bugging you that your jacket made it look way too flashy. You make a mental note to tie it around your waist when you head back inside. It's probably going to be warmer than nine degrees with the heaters up and running.

  
“Thomas-san!” You wave, attracting the taller man's attention. Thomas breaks out into a polite smile and returns the greeting to all of you. 

  
“Hoshiumi-san! Hirugami-san! Haven't seen you in a while,” He replies and shakes your hand.

  
“Yeah!” You two synchronised as Sachirou raises his hand in greeting.

  
“What're you doing outside?” Fukurou asks, and now you're genuinely curious to why anyone would refuse the warmth inside.

  
Thomas gives you a long, suffering look, “Inunaki-san got lost and his data ran out, so I have to help him,” he mumbles in somewhat broken Japanese, but it works. You bark out a laugh.

  
“That sucks-” you say just as you hear a loud shatter. Thomas flinches and opens the door behind him to see what happened. A second later, a loud voice that sounds too much like Bokuto apologises, followed by a few laughs, and Thomas snickers.

  
“What happened?” You try and peer through the doors. “Go see for yourself,” is all Thomas says before you dart inside.

  
The bright lights blinded you for a split second, all of the gym coming into sight; the tables were aligned against the walls alternating in threes, serving some deliciously tempting food, which is a low bar for you, in all honesty. The gym ceiling was generously decorated with streamers, balloons and a lot of other things you wonder how managed to get up there. The stage was turned into a mess of wires and speakers, presumably where the DJ is. ‘Not too bad,’ you think to yourself.

  
The amusing yet somewhat horrific sight blurs into existence in the near corner of the building: There were what seemed to be two tables toppled over each other, a few drinks spilt since the people around probably helped clean up the initial mess. Under all the rubble, emerges a sheepish and pouty looking Bokuto, and beside him is Miya picking out specks of rice out from the older man's hair. Just by looking at Miya, you feel chills down your spine; the smile on the setter's face doesn't mask the dangerous aura radiating from him. 

  
You instinctively look behind you, and find the two Hirugamis already blending into the party. You revert your attention back to the mess in front of you and pull out your phone and take a picture. You just finish recording Miya scolding Bokuto through clenched teeth, laughing at the glare Miya sends towards you.  
“Could you send that to me?” You jump as you hear Miya speak from behind you- Oh wait. Miya Osamu’s standing there, and you relax.

  
“Yeah, sure.” You start opening your Instagram and sending the video into the inactive group chat. All you know is that Osamu is added in it, hitting send and watching it load over the slow WiFi. You pocket you phone as soon as it finishes.

  
“So, what brings you here?” You ask naïvely and immediately give yourself a mental kick as you watch Osamu adjust his cap.

  
“I planned this party with Bokuto, I helped with the food,” he says matter-of-factly. ‘Of course, Kourai, you idiot,’ you think.

  
“Yeah, I figured,” you watch as Osamu chuckles at his twin, who is currently trying to wrestle Bokuto out of the gym to get him to clean himself up. Osamu's eyes wander across the gym absently. You follow suit, finding alot of familiar faces with no names, until your eyes land on a familiar head of light hair near one of the tables opposite to the one you're standing beside, but the view is obscured by people standing in the way. You shift a little to squint at the guy and as his face comes into focus, your eyes widen.

  
“I'm gonna go check on the others, ‘kay?” He says while narrowing his eyes at what you think is the brunette middle blocker with the nasty torso flexibility on EJP.

  
“Yeah, see ya, Osamu.” Osamu hums as he leaves and you immediately dart across the gym, towards the taller man.

  
“Izuru, you bastard!” You yell, making Izuru jump. After nearly dropping his glass, Izuru's eyes shine again.

  
“Kourai! Been a while!” He slaps your back.

  
“Yeah? Where the hell did you die? You never answered me and Sachirou's messages!” You two grab a plate and chopsticks, helping yourselves to some food.

  
“Shit,” he hisses, “okay, about that. I lost my phone a few months ago and I had no way of telling the old team,” he says, taking a few pieces of karaage.

  
“Oh boo-hoo, you couldn’t’ve visited us while were in our pajamas, huh?” You say carelessly. Izuru shoots you a glare and you immediately shut up, “Sorry,” you mumble, stuffing a mini donut into your mouth.

  
“In my defence, you and Sachirou were all the way in Tokyo,” he says, “by the way, why are you wearing that thing?" He points towards your white leather jacket. _'Shit, I forgot to take it off-!'_ You hurriedly take the jacket off and tied it around your waist, the hair on your now exposed arms standing due to temperature change.

"You saw nothing, anyway," you divert the topic quickly, "how was Tokyo for you when you first came here?” You two break off into a conversation about your Tokyo struggles and discoveries.

  
You hear Izuru pause just as he was about to eat his karaage chicken. “What?” you ask, looking in the vague direction he was looking. The stage and the tangle of wires could reveal something that wasn't there before; a shock of bright orange hair.

  
_Wait, what-_

  
“Whoa, what the fuck,” You whisper and a moment later, Izuru chuckles.

  
“I mean, I was looking at Kanbayashi over there, but that works too.” Your eyes wander around the scene and sure enough, Keiichirou is waving you two over. You pout, embarrassed- rare moments like these are where you run out of comebacks that can save your pride. He bumps shoulders with you as Izuru moves forward. You silently follow him towards the former Kamomedai libero. 

  
Once you three were in close range,

  
_WHACK_

  
Keiichirou gives Izuru a bone-cracking punch in his side, leaving Izuru hissing in pain as he bends over, holding his now bruising side.

  
“Izuru, you _bastard_ , where were you?” Keiichirou asks in a dangerously calm voice and you burst out laughing. Oh, how you missed Keiichirou owning the title as the ‘demon kouhai' back in high school. _Oh_ , how you didn't miss Keiichirou chasing you down school halls because you hid his jersey, demanding whereabouts.

  
“Kanbayashi, I'm having deja-vu, stop it,” Izuru mumbles, straightening his back tenderly. You explain Izuru's heart wrenching story- not without making your own exaggerations for dramatic effect.

  
You start telling your own tales before you notice one less person who's supposed to be here. You stop mid-sentence, wearing a deadpan, then excuse yourself and scan the gym and find two tall, lanky men with wavy brown hair, eyes falling on especially the slightly shorter one.

  
Target locked. Time to perform the duty.

  
You dart across the gym again, hop and grab Sachirou by the ear, dragging him lazily across towards the rest of the Kamomedai alumna. It was annoying how used to this Sachirou. In high school, the roles would be reversed. 'Oh, how the tables have turned.'

  
“Hey,” Sachirou waves, dazed as he received greetings from his ex-teammates. His eyes fly open as soon as he hears Izuru's. “ _Izuru_ , you bastard, where-?”

  
“ _STOP_.” A round of laughter erupted.

  
It’s ten pm. You lean against the gym walls, thoroughly drained. You were already tired and sleepless on the ride here, but now you felt absolutely spent; you tend to underestimate how much energy your old teammates used to pull out from you. As energetic and bouncy you can be, your teammates managed to drain you without even having to yell and bounce around like you do.

  
Needless to say, you had more fun than you initially had expected. You all even agreed to meet at the nearby restaurant on the fourth day after Christmas. Satisfied, you stuff an occasional cheesy takoyaki into your mouth.

  
You bolt awake as you hear a music note beat through the gym- you didn't even realise you dozed- and find the red-head still actively controlling the beats that drum through the relatively emptier gym (maybe you feel the gym emptied a bit because Izuru, Keiichirou and the Miyas left). For the first time, you notice, even from afar in the dimmed lights, that Hinata has never looked so relaxed, _sedated_ even. You notice a glint in his eyes that was never there when you watched him play.

  
Before you even know what you're doing, you're approach the stage, slowly, making yourself unseen for as long as you can. The speakers approach you too, music increasing in volume with every step you take, the bass invading your ribcage and shaking your insides.

  
And sure enough, Hinata Shouyou is relaxed back into his seat, arms spread across the top of the couch, ankle resting on the other leg's knee. He wore casual and simple, but it managed to make him look attractive nonetheless: the first two buttons undone of the black plaid with his sleeves rolled up, and some brown pants. If someone told you this was your fated rival, you'd be pissed and would probably put up a passive aggressive attitude.

  
But this is Hinata Shouyou, a person with a face and name; a person who worked just as hard as you, if not even harder, and flew, kissing the heavens. A person, who was Icarus in high school, but now is the sun itself.

  
You inwardly scowl, not in spite, rather in how much you're starting to fall behind, a shadow. _But..._

  
“Hinata Shouyou!” You wave, smiling. Hinata's eyes shine under the lights as he flashes you a smile of his own.

  
“Hoshiumi-san, hey!” He gestures you towards him, and you go around the speakers where the stairs raise the stage.

  
“You're always full of surprises, first Brazil, now DJ?” Hinata chuckles as he adjusts on the music board, the music transitioning into another track.

  
“I tried DJ because I knew a lot of western songs, and the music board wasn't too difficult to operate,” He explains as he falls back into the couch and you gape.

  
“’Wasn't too difficult'? I tried the music board but I could never keep track of any of the buttons, how the _hell_ did you manage to do that?” Hinata gives you a suffering look.

  
“Trust me, it still took me a week to get used it.” You snort and sit on the couch next to him, relaxing. A moment passes, where the silence is filled with Hinata's brilliant music taste. You look out from the stage, and in the dim lights, you could still make out quite a crowd. Seeing people roaming about, conversing with each other, seeing Bokuto yell, made you realise just how less energy you have left.

  
“I'm tired,” you blurt. Hinata scoffs, “You can say that again.” A moment passes.

  
“I'm _tired_ ,” you repeat and Hinata laughs fruitfully with you laughing along with him not a second later. There is another sleepy pause.

  
“Where's Hirugami-san?” He asks, turning his head towards you, and you follow suit and you try not to notice how the coloured lights illuminate Hinata's hair so well.

  
“Eh, probably making conversations about vets and taxes,” you two snicker. “And Ushijima-san? The rest of the team?”

  
“Ushijima doesn't like parties, the rest of the team either didn't know someone who could drive them here, or was busy. Kageyama is, well, Kageyama,” you finish and Hinata grins, brows furrowed, “Man, I should use that explanation everywhere.” You snicker.

  
“Where's Sakusa?”

  
“Didn't come. Didn't want to.”

  
“He could at least sugar coat it,” You laugh. The song at this point was ending and Hinata flashes another tired, unwilling look at you, before forcing himself up and tending to the board. You watch him do his job as you further sink into the couch.

  
The silhouette of Hinata here was far from lame; shoulders sharply aligned, every curl coasting a bright green or purple light, his arms defined even through the shadow he casts- it made your heart swell, it was way too cool-looking, _Hinata Shouyou was way too cool-looking_. Even though you'd never in your life admit that to his face. 

  
You blame your quickening heartbeat on the music drumming at your insides.

  
As the music again transitiones to the first song you can recognize, Hinata doesn't return to his seat. “Nakashima?” He yells.

  
“Nakashima,” he calls out again, looking at the door. A guy about your height emerges from the door, light brown hair a mess, holding a half eaten onigiri, hums in response.

  
“Could you take over for a few songs? I'm taking a break.” ‘Nakashima’ gulps and then looks at you. Not even a second later, the man whistles as he looks back at Hinata. You feel your cheeks burn, and you stutter, indignant. Hinata just laughs, “Oh, _shut up_.”

  
“Yeah, I'll take over. You go relax,” Nakashima approaches the board, and you get up to let the man in.

  
“Having fun, Hoshiumi-san?” He asks as you head towards the backside of the couch.

  
“Very, but I think we're all running out of fuel as of now.” Nakashima laughs.

  
“I can tell. I only arrived an hour ago since I had a sister to pick up from the airport.” You hum in understanding. 

  
“C'mon, Hoshiumi-san,” Hinata asks and as Santa Monica blares through the speakers, you two move away from the stage to the gym floor.

  
“Where to?” You ask suspiciously. Hinata leans in and you tilt your ear towards him.

  
“There's a ladder here that leads to the roof of thing,” he says slowly, quietly, as if it's a hidden secret about this place.

  
“The roof,” you pause, looking at Hinata hesitantly, “ _with no fences._ ”

  
“Nothing’ll happen! Calm down,” Hinata snickers. “I've been here more times than I count.”

  
“You've been here before?” You ask, surprised.

  
“Yeah! The team hosted the recruitment camp in this gym.” You make an awed sound.

  
“So,” you drag the ‘o', “you became a rebellious rookie who explored a little too much.” Hinata laughs nervously and you laugh along with him, his laughs turning genuine.

  
“So where is this ‘mystery ladder'?” You put your hands on your hips and scan the gym walls.

  
“It's obviously not in plain sight,” Hinata grins Cheshire, ”I'll show you, Hoshiumi-san.”

**Author's Note:**

> i really cant shut up about this ship, can i
> 
> also im not a native english speaker so my imperfect grammar might show itself in all its gross glory
> 
> come yell w me on twt: @/kiyootiii <3


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